looms in a LOW ANGLE, part of the clutter behind the gymnasium.
A CAT enters FRAME.
CAMERA DOLLIES FORWARD, prowling with him through the landscape of trash receptacles and shadows.
CLOSE ON CAT
Which freezes, alert, sensing something just beyond human perception.
A sourceless wind rises, and with it a keening WHINE.
Papers blow across the pavement.
The cat YOWLS and hides under the dumpster.
REAL TIME -- as he stares into the pit,
digs in, drops into the sweet spot on the wave, hunkers
down.
His moves becoming aggressive, frenzied--
??
INT. BLACK SEDAN
An M-16 clip is SMACKED into place and cocked with a
CACHACK! Ammo clips are SNICK-SNICKED into handgun butts
and a long clip is SSSNICKED into an UZI.
Watches are checked. The PIG NOSE people nod to each
other.
??
EXT. BANK
Pig Nose #
really
understand.
(pause)
Not that you mind the killins...
The stones of a country graveyard gleam in the last daylight.
PREACHER
Yore Book is full of killins.
He starts fast and noisily down a steep hill.
PREACHER
But there are things you do hate, Lord:
perfume-smellin things -- lacy things --
things with curly hair --
CUT TO
INT. A BURLESQUE HOUSE -- MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT -- A DANCER
She is ha
shivering. Its freezing, but the
time they get outside is too precious to give up.
RUDY
All those pictures shes sent...
yknow ... you sure theyre all
of her, Nick? You hear sometimes
they dont send their real
pictures. Could be her cousin or
something.
Nick studies him.
NICK
Why you gotta say a thing like that.
RUDY
Im just saying.
NICK
Why you gotta. We were gonna give
you a ride someplace, ma
real story, I guess
Im your boy. My names Cole. Bill Cole.
Im Jims lawyer and "best friend."
Jims one of those bright young fellas
you see around.
College graduate, ad business, lovely wife,
two fine kids, makes about a year.
Jim and Muriel Blandings are just like
thousands of other New Yorkers:
Modern cliff dwellers.
The morning it all started was just another
of those crisp September mornings.
real unique
signature. No cavitation, no reactor noise...
doesnt even sound like screws.
He puts the signal onto a speaker and everyone in the attack room listens to
the intruders acoustic signature, a strange THRUMMING. The captain studies
the electronic position board, a graphic representation of the contours of
the steep-walled canyon, a symbol for the Montana, and converging with it, an
amorp
Thats all - no number. Walker thrusts the message
in his pocket.
MANAGER O.S.
(Cont.)
When you gonna pay up? Thats three
weeks y-owe me!
Totally confused now, Walker sees something.
WALKER
I...
WALKERS P.O.V. - a painting on a wall (cheap print variety) -
waves on a beach. A breeze rustles the pages of a calender, pinned
beside the picture.
TIGHT ON WALKER - MOVE IN on his ear. O.S. surf crashes
REAL. Their lives revolve around this pageant. All
speak with a THICK MINNESOTA ACCENT.]
THREE "CIVIL SERVETTES," the local womens group.
[Picture unattractive Stepford Wives in matching
windbreakers] stand beside GLADYS LEEMAN, 34, president.
She STOPS THE VIDEO.
GLADYS LEEMAN
Good God, Iris, you taped your shows
over it.
IRIS
Sorry.
Gladys turns to the GIRLS in the bleachers.
SUPER: MOUNT
painted on the grass. The citys
spectacular large skyline rises out of the b.g.
A SPUNKY MR. KELMAN stands at a podium, speaking into a mic.
MR. KELMAN
Okay, so the firemen landed four
out of six inside the target --
A BOWLER shouts out playfully.
BOWLER
How `bout a show tune?!
Mr. Kelman feigns seriousness.
MR. KELMAN
Somebody wanna keep chose bowlers
in line.
A hip thirteen year old, FRED KELMA
landscape. His face
changes, stretching and flattening, similar to Goofys. Finally the music
builds and the camera pulls back to reveal Max, now looking exactly like
Goofy, standing in the remains of his torn clothing. Max grabs his throat,
but is unable to stifle a harsh, terrible Goofy-laugh as the music peaks.
INT. MAXS BEDROOM
The music ends abruptly as Max wakes up, screaming, and sits up st